When I met Captain Hilliard at the Bay of Islands and told him our destination, he held up his hands, and said that I should have informed him of our wish to go to Pistolet Bay and that he would have advised against it. He thought it very doubtful if he could take such a schooner as mine down there and bring me back before winter. I told him, however, that was where we were going and he reluctantly acquiesced. He advised that we add considerably to our stores and provisions and that we should not inform the sailors of our destination or they would not go. Hilliard added that when he received the cable he thought I merely wanted to run down the coast a little way for caribou hunting, and he advised that I send my wife back, at which she only laughed. Mattie, as usual, was quite indifferent. He did not care where he went as long as his wages were paid and he got three good meals a day. When food diminished, his spirits fell. We set out in the teeth of a strong head-wind, and it took us all day to beat down the great turbulent Bay. My schooner was strong and staunch and in new condition. She was broad and bluff in the bow and not good at tacking into a head wind. We had no engine and the strong current of the Straits of Belle Isle was against us. After several days of bad weather and difficult navigation, we found ourselves off Hawk's Bay, less than half the distance to our destination. As the wind had increased to a gale, Captain Hilliard insisted on entering this harbor and on dropping anchor in a very exposed position off Porte Saunders. The night we arrived a steel steamship anchored between us and the shore. The wind became furious, and to our dismay our anchor began to drag and we found ourselves drifting down toward the steel vessel. The captain of the latter saw our predicament, but did not move. He told me afterward that he expected to see the schooner smashed into kindling wood, but that if he had tried to shift his berth he would have been on the rocks in five minutes. So, dashed up and down in our little vessel, we spent a rather uncomfortable night. The people on shore, expect ing us to be wrecked, kept up a big bonfire. Luckily, after drifting until our main boom just comfortably cleared the side of the steamship, our anchor embedded itself in some blue clay and did not budge another inch.

The next morning Captain Hilliard told me there was no chance of sailing farther north while the present wind held. I therefore decided to go back into the country to fish and shoot until the weather improved, and the days which followed were among the most delightful of my life. With four men and two large canoes, Blanche and I ascended the Torrent River, crossed two lakes, and climbed a mountain, which the men told me no white woman had ever visited. They therefore called it "Lady Worcester Mountain," a name which it still bears. For our camp we found a delightful place, sheltered by trees and well supplied by an abundant spring. On the first night that we camped on the side of the mountain, a curious thing happened. A young lad named Mickey, whom I had engaged to wait on my wife, brought me a large silver watch which he had found directly under her camp-pillow. The watch, which neither of us had ever seen before, could not have been there long, for although run-down, it went when I wound it. Some one must have slept on that spot only a few days earlier. I told Mickey he might keep the watch until we found the owner, whom we never discovered.

I wish that I could describe the glory of the scenery which is the lure and the reward of the North. Climbing one day to the summit of a high mountain, on one side we looked down on the blue and sparkling sea and on the great glistening icebergs which rose like little mountains from the water. Across the Straits were the wild ranges of Labrador. In the other direction stretched Newfoundland near at hand, with its vast forests, its unknown lakes, and its rivers extending like ribbons of silver.

The day after we had made our permanent camp was Sunday. I did not, therefore, expect to hunt. After lunch we decided to take a long walk to survey the country. We had not gone far when I saw a very beautiful caribou dart swiftly across our path. Before I realized what I was doing I had shot him. The meat was delicious (the best of all venison) and the head, though not large, was an unusually fine one. Two varieties of caribou were distinguished in Newfoundland, the Wood-land and the Barren-land. The head of the former is more compact and basket-like. Caribou heads of this type are valued for their points, or small branching prongs. The best Newfoundland head I ever heard of carried forty-eight points. This animal, although not more than four years old, had forty-three. Mattie was a good deal excited by this procedure. He was carrying Blanche's light rifle, and, as our guide, he was not expected to shoot. A moment after my shooting, a very large stag stood broadside on, not more than fifty yards from Mattie. Before I could check him he took deliberate aim and fired. This was vexatious to me, as we were allowed only four heads, and I did not wish to see Mattie shoot one of them. He had usually a very good aim, but he missed this great animal entirely. Before setting out, Blanche had been tinkering with the sight of her rifle and had elevated it so much that the bullet passed over the animal's back.

During the next eight or nine days we estimated that we had seen about fifteen hundred caribou, an experience, I presume, which will never again be repeated in Newfoundland. As a rule, the great herds migrate twice a year, passing in the autumn to the south where food is more abundant, and in the spring to the north. These caribou, however, seemed to have no inclination to move, and Mattie told me that they would remain where they were for the entire winter.

We used to sit on an elevated spot and, through our field-glasses, study the various herds which surrounded us. One day, while so engaged, I saw a really notable stag with a head of quite unusual proportions. I was anxious that Blanche should have a chance to shoot this animal, as it would be an experience which she would always remember. As we were clambering down to the plateau where the caribou was standing, I heard Blanche, who was behind me, throw a shell into the barrel of her rifle. I wondered if she had realized that this action would raise the hammer of her piece. Looking behind, I saw her gayly climbing after me with her cocked rifle pointing directly at my back. This was more than my nerves could bear. I gently lowered the hammer and said in a low tone, "Don't raise the hammer until you are ready to shoot." At last we reached the plateau and the great stag was still there. Blanche raised her rifle and took a long, deliberate aim, but nothing happened. Thinking that she hoped the stag would approach nearer, whereas he was on the point of flight, I whispered, "Don't wait for him to come nearer, shoot now." She replied in a weak tone, "It won't shoot." At that moment the stag made a bound and was about to disappear forever. I therefore immediately raised my rifle and killed him. Blanche was speechless with chagrin-she had forgotten to raise the hammer again after I had lowered it.

On the last day of our delightful sojourn in the mountains, I remembered that I had promised to give a good caribou head to a friend who had been helpful in our expedition. Our provisions, except for caribou meat, were about exhausted, and we were to break camp next day. It was a deplorable day for hunting, as a heavy fall of snow And sleet made vision difficult. At such a time the animals would not be grazing but hiding in thickets. Shortly after noon, Mattie and I set out on a very disagreeable walk. He thought it best to skirt the side of a difficult mountain. We must have walked five or six miles without seeing anything. Late in the afternoon I recognized a little greensward on the edge of the forest, where, through my glasses, I had seen a fine herd feeding the day before. I told Mattie that I wished to explore this field, As I approached I found that it was separated from us by a rather deep stream. This did not look good to me. The day was cold and I knew that the water would be colder, so I told Mattie that I should not try to cross it. He said, "Let's climb up dat little hill and look 'round." We did so, and I saw fifteen caribou cows and a fine stag emerging from the forest. Mattie cut with his big knife two small saplings to support us in the water, which rose nearly to our waists. When I crawled up the farther bank I was shivering so with cold that I could not hold my rifle steady, I therefore lay flat on the ground without moving until I had recovered a little. Then, raising my head, I saw the stag just about to disappear into the forest-and he fell at my first shot.

---

Home Page OR Previous Page

---